coffee, coffee

Sometimes I think about things that I did as a kid (like I'm so old) and marvel at my (coffee-like) boldness.

In 6th or 7th grade, I tried out for the talent show, claiming "dance" as my talent. I made it up on the fly, performing in the gymacafetorium, in front of my classmates. I didn't make it.

Freshman year of high school, I ran for class treasurer. I had to make a speech on camera. I have no idea what I said. I lost.

A few years after that, the summer after 10th grade, I was in a play. I had to sing on stage every night, sometimes twice, for about two weeks straight. I had a "solo" where I had to say, "NO COFFEE?!?!" as if my life depended on it. I was fabulous.

Junior year of high school I tried out for the high school musical (no, not that one). I sang on stage, in front of classmates. ALONE. I didn't make it.

Senior year of college, I had my solo art exhibition/thesis piece. Piece of cake.

I guess the point is that I feel most like myself when I'm behind the camera, watching and documenting all the action as opposed to in front of the camera (or audience) being the action.

But thanks to that one summer community theatre..."coffee, coffee" will always be funny.

So I present to you this photograph of my mother's hands wrapped around a delicious cup of diner coffee.

quarters only

Long Island as a teenager can sometimes feel like the land of diners, bowling alleys and movie theaters. That never really bothered me, because I loved to sit around for hours with my friends ordering burned coffee and talking about what our lives would be like once we left.

In my opinion, every good diner should have individual booth jukeboxes.


I hope everyone enjoys the superbowl (Go Bears!)!!!